


blood that binds us

by nspx



Series: bound by the things we choose 'verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Forgiveness, Other, angstyangstyangsty, excuse me i needed to get this out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nspx/pseuds/nspx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5k oneshot of Leia and her family in five glimpses.<br/>Possibly slightly AU and blatantly ignores most of the EU; features angst, mourning, flashbacks, the Organa family, Aunt ‘Soka, Forceghost!Anakin, our favorite scoundrel and his little brother - you’ve been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood that binds us

1.       

In the Organa household, no discussion is off limits. Bail is First Chairman and Viceroy, his Serene Highness (and Rebel leader, actually, but she doesn’t know that yet) and Breha is Queen of Alderaan, her Majesty, thank you  _very_  much; both are speakers at heart, unyielding in their beliefs. How could their daughter be any different?

In the Organa household, no discussion is off limits. Well, maybe, only one thing is not to be spoken of, makes Papa’s brows furrow and Mama’s voice sharp–

 _Him_.  

She doesn’t know who he is or what he is, exactly, but the way Papa speaks of him makes her think he isn’t human.

Aunt ‘Soka, whom Leia doesn’t see nearly often enough, who is so smart and strong and tall, Leia wants to be  _just_  like her– comes crashing through the front door, cloak over her head-tails –

(“To stay safe,” Aunt ‘Soka tells her, when Leia asks why she always wears dark clothing and never shows her face in public or goes out during the day.

“We’re going through a bit of a hard time right now. Alderaan is very peaceful and very great, but you can’t always trust people, little one.”

“Why not?”

“People change,” Aunt ‘Soka says and for a moment she looks very far away– “You always have to watch your back.”

Leia doesn’t understand, because she is six. She scrunches up her face – “Can we go look at the fish now, ‘Soka?”

Aunt ‘Soka smiles.

Leia doesn’t understand, not yet, but she kept those words in the back of her mind, even when she is not six anymore.)

– And she breathes, eyes wide and fearful:  _“I saw him.”_

Mama, her hair down, which is something she allows herself only in the presence of family, ushers her in. “Goodness, Ahsoka, you’re shaking!” she exclaims and sits the Togruta down.

Aunt ‘Soka stirs her tea; her fingers shake.

When people are scared or sad or angry, Papa once said, you give them space. So Leia leaves the adults to ‘ _talk about adult things’_ , while she plays in the living room, sneakily listening in on the conversation.

“Who did you see?” Papa asks gently, but Leia can tell he  _really_  wants to know, because he uses this same voice on her when she falls and cries and won’t tell him what happened.

“I saw…” Aunt ‘Soka chokes up and Leia wants to go and comfort her, because Aunt ‘Soka  _never_  cries, but Mama closes the door. Leia drops her doll –Mama would’ve scolded her for it- and presses her ear against the wood.  

“I saw Anakin _,”_  ‘Soka says after she calms down, but Leia feels something settle around her that is not very calm at all. “ _I saw him.”_

Everyone is silent for a long moment and Leia wonders, who is Anakin? She’s never heard of an Anakin.

(Anakin. What a funny name.)

“I saw him, Bail.”

Papa says flatly: “But he is dead.”

(Leia knows what that means, because she had a fish once and it started swimming upside down and stopped breathing. Mama told her it ‘died’ and said it was the natural cycle of life and Leia cried, because it wasn’t  _fair_  that the fish died, because she loved him very, very much – but Mama said, and had Leia been older she might’ve noticed the shadow in her eyes: “If you truly love someone, you let them go. You can’t prevent things like that from happening, my lovely Leia; if you try, you only make things worse.”

Papa sat her on his lap and she snuggled into him. “When someone dies, people are sad. But it’s okay be to be sad, lovely. It’s okay,” he stroked her hair and Leia nodded and thought about how she loved her Papa and Mama very much. She thought about how sad  _she_  would be if her parents weren’t there anymore. She thought about how some people weren’t as lucky as her, how some people were sad because their parents weren’t there to tuck them in at night.

She didn’t want anyone in the galaxy to be sad; who knows, Anakin might’ve been someone’s Papa, too.)

Aunt ‘Sokah says, her voice a solemn whisper: “He is alive, Bali. He’s…”

Leia presses herself harder against the door.

“ _Vader_.”

(Leia’s heard of him before, in hushed whispers over breakfast, sharp words shared behind closed doors.

Papa spits his name like he is scum and Mama gives Papa a look that says Not In Front Of Leia, B and Papa looks back at her with narrowed eyes and mutters into his beard, but shuts up either way.)

The sound of fine china breaking follows. Mama shrieks, “ _What_?!” and Papa gulps: “Ahsoka.  _Ahsoka_. Do you realise what you’re saying?”

“I could feel him in the Force,” she croaks. “It was him, I swear to you!”

“Did he see you?” Papa demands. “Does he know you’re here?”

“No, of course not,” ‘Sokah snaps and Leia is confused, because why is everyone so upset over this Anaquin? Or was it…? Ana… Ana-something. She decides she doesn’t like him very much.

Leia peeks through the keyhole. Mama is picking up pieces of grandma’s china set –oh no, these cups were her absolute  _favorite_ – off the floor but Aunt ‘Soka levitates them with a raise of her fingers and places them on the table. Mama’s voice is quiet, strained; she murmurs, “Thank you,” and sweeps them into the trash. Leia thinks Mama might be crying, too.

“Of course he didn’t see me,” Ahsoka repeats, more to herself than anyone else. “Nobody did. I went undetected, I made sure of that. But I saw him, Bail, I felt him through the Force, I felt…“

( _Darkness_ , she wants to say.  _I felt darkness and cold and fury. He didn’t feel human.)_

She sounds so exasperated to Leia, so hopeless. She takes a deep breath, “Ana- He’s alive, Bail.”

(She can’t say Anakin. Vader isn’t Anakin. Vader will never be Anakin.)

Papa slams his fist onto the table and he’s  _angry_ , Papa never gets angry – “He died on Mustafar,” he growls. “Obi-Wan made  _damn_  sure of that.”

Leia’s lip quivers.

“Anakin Skywalker is  _dead_.”

“Leia,” Mama opens the door and she stumbles into her legs. “Leia, what are you doing here?”

Papa mellows; Aunt ‘Soka sighs.

“Why is An-Anakin dead?” Leia asks in her tiny little voice and Papa looks pained and Ahsoka buries her face in her hands and Mama doesn’t know what to say, not really –

This is all Anakin’s fault, Leia concludes. She  _really_  doesn’t like him very much.

(They move around a lot after that. Sometimes it’s because Imperials show up to ask about rumors of a Force sensitive, other times it’s because Mama’s hands start to shake when she’s braiding Leia’s hair.

Papa says, “It’s just for a little while. We’ll be back on Alderaan before you know it.”

And Leia asks, “Papa? Will Alderaan always be my home?”

“Of course,” Papa replies. “You’ll always have Alderaan, no matter what.”)

2.        

She was thirteen when she noticed she didn’t look a lot like Mom and Dad.

It didn’t bother her, because she knew her parents loved her as much as they loved each other (which was a lot), but  _still_  – they never directly addressed it, they never talked about it, they never even hinted at the possibility of her not being…  _theirs_.  

She’s sixteen now; all grown up, all big brown eyes and braided hair, soft skin and sharp tongue. She’s okay with not looking like Mom or Dad, or Grandpapa and Grandmama, because she looks like herself, and she’s okay with that. But when Kaat, son of Senator Hrul, told her he  _bet_  her Mom was a…

Well. She’d rather not repeat it. He ended up with Alderaani blossom wine in his face and a whole string of curse-words thrown his way that night.

Dad was not very pleased.

“What is it with you!” he exclaims when they’re back home and she  _really_ wants to leave. She understands Dad, she really does, politics are all about image and manipulation and if your only child –and future senator, too– throws a tantrum at an important banquet thing, she guesses it’s not exactly great – but come on. He has to give her some credit.

(And she’s always had slight issues railing her anger in.)

“You got in trouble once and we were okay with it! You got in trouble the second time – well, tough luck, isn’t it? We told you not to do it again! Everyone makes mistakes, but this is  _unacceptable_ , Leia! Not only do you get expelled from school for  _publically speaking against the Empire_ ,” he glares at her, “You also get into a fight with someone that’s on  _our_  side–“

“I was defending Mom!”

“Your mother doesn’t need defending, Leia, for God’s sake –“

“Doesn’t need defending?” Leia shrieks and her insides are on fire, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach – “ _Doesn’t need defending_? You don’t even know what he said!”

“What did he say, Leia? Huh? What did he say, that could have possibly—“

“He called Mom a kriffin’  _slut,_ okay?”

“Mom is Queen and his father married one of her handmaidens, of course he’d say something like –”

“He  _also_  said that she obviously must’ve had an affair, because I look  _nothing_ like either of you. Either  _that_  or I’m not your daughter. So, which one is it, _father_?”

Dad stares at her with wide eyes, breathing labored. The anger seems to wash from her all at once.

“Dad…”

“No,” he says and holds up a hand. He swallows, looks at her with shining eyes; she doesn’t know what to say.

Dad murmurs, “Excuse me,” and storms out, midnight blue robe billowing around his ankles.

Leia doesn’t know whether to cry or scream or do both at once.

(“She looked so much like  _him_ , Breha,” Bail whispers, head in his hands.

“He is her biological father, after all,” she quips breezily, weaving jewels out of her hair. She can see him gape at her in the reflection of the mirror; she turns around.

“Bail. You’re her father,” she looks at him very seriously, “Not him. It’ll never be him.”

“She can’t know. Ever,” he states, ignoring her. “We’ll tell her mother died in childbirth and we don’t know who the father is.”

“You want to lie to her?” she frowns.

“It’s not a lie, Padme  _did_  die in childbirth,” he defends but Breha raises an eyebrow.

“We’re just erasing the father?”

“Well, what else can we do?!” he explodes suddenly, stands up and runs a frustrated hand through his greying hair.

“Don’t snap at me,” she says calmly. “I’m just saying dishonesty isn’t what she needs right now.”

“But she  _needs_  to know that her father is a murdering psychopath –“

“No, what our daughter  _needs_  right now is her  _actual_  father to stop being an idiot and talk to her about her feelings,” she asserts but her eyes soften when he flops down on the bed, shoulders hunched: “ _You’re_  her father, Bail. She needs you. She needs us to be honest with her right now.”

She takes his face between her hands. “Hey. Hey, look at me – she’s  _our_ daughter. Ours.”

He nods, slowly, surely, searching her face; he doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He exhales.

“I mean it, Breha,” he says, pressing their foreheads together. “She can’t know about him.”

“Alright,” she agrees. “But I happen to think she’s a lot more like Padme, than she is him.”

He smiles. “And thank Gods for that.”)

(Mom sits down on her bed three hours later. She sighs.

“Leia.”

“Mama,” Leia echoes, avoiding Mom’s gaze; she can’t bear it.

“What you did today… “

Mom sounds so sad and tired and  _disappointed_  – “I’m sorry, Mama,” Leia’s voice breaks, “I didn’t mean it.”

Mom sighs again; she pulls her in and Leia rests her head on her chest like when she was little.

“We love you very much, lovely,” Mom promises. “And we’re sorry we kept it from you.”

“N-No,  _I’m_  sorry –“she starts but Mom hushes her.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

She nods and bites on her lip. “I love you,” she says and Mom drops a kiss on her forehead.

Leia dreams of a woman that night; with dark curly hair and her complexion and her chin, she dreams of a woman with the galaxy in her sad eyes and Nubian lullabies spewing from her red lips –

It can only be her birth mother, she decides. But it doesn’t make her love Mom any less.)

3.        

She’s eighteen, almost nineteen, when she joins the Senate.

(“The youngest ever elected,” Dad boasts proudly, if not a little drunkenly, and throws a heavy arm around her shoulder.)

The first meeting she ever attends, she bites the inside of her cheek so hard she tastes blood for the remainder of the day. Politics aren’t about honesty, they’re not about people, they’re not about justice – but they  _should_  be.

(“They’re nothing but animals,” Tarkin sneers, “Why shouldn’t we enslave Wookies? They’re advanced for their kind,“ –Leia’s blood runs hot in her veins–“and they’d be cheap.”

Murmurs of agreement follow; she feels Senator Rowrakurr of Kashyyyk shrink beside her. She looks at her father – she looks at Senator Rowrakurr. She wants to say, “ _No. Nobody should be treated like that._ ”

She is silent. It’s the last time she’ll ever be.)

Mon Mothma stands beside her; they’re of equal height now. Leia sips her wine and listens in on idle conversation. None of this means anything, she thinks, but she is patient.

(She’s seventeen when Dad takes her to her first political ball.

Mom says to her, “The Emperor isn’t a good man, Leia. You might be overwhelmed by him. He has this…  _energy_  about him. Steer clear of Vader as well.”

When she first meets the Emperor, she first notices the darkness and cold that he seems to emit. It’s all-consuming, seductive,  _comeherecomeherecomehere_  – He says, although it’s more of a hiss, “Good evening, Princess. How are you this lovely evening?”

She gives a weak smile and she can feel him prying into her mind,  _get away from me, sithspawn_ – “Quite alright, thank you.”

“And yourself, Senator?” he addresses her father, who is just as uncomfortable as she is, she knows, but decidedly better at hiding it.

Dad laughs. “Wonderful.”

They chatter; Vader can’t be too far now, she senses. She stammers, avoiding the Emperor’s eye, “E-excuse me,” and power walks her way to the gardens, which are incidentally on the other side of the building.

Leia Organa doesn’t  _stammer_ , thank you very much. The next time she meets the Emperor, she fully intends to spit in his face.)

These balls have some perks. She’s heard whispers, rumors, tiny scraps of information that came in handy at every last one of them; just last week they were able to cut off some of the Emperor’s major weapon supply lines, because Mon had overheard two of the Emperor’s Moffs talk about their provider being a tardy, good for nothing smuggler.

“The Emperor has a new all-powerful weapon,” Senator of Ganthel entrusts their tiny group, which consists of six people. “They say it could destroy a _planet_.”

“It can,” a rather smug voice interrupts. “Biggest ship to ever exist.”

Silence falls.

“Tarkin,” Leia gives a tight smile, eyeing the newcomer. “And,  _of course_ , Lord Vader.”

(“Papa?” fourteen year old Leia clutches her father and begs, “Papa. Where’s Aunt ‘Soka.  _Papa_. Please tell me where Aunt ‘Soka is. Please. Papa,  _please_ ,”

“Sh-She didn’t make it.”

There’s something inside her that shatters, something inside her that trembles with fury and yearns to destroy – instead she hugs Papa tighter. Mama drops to her knees and wraps her arms around the both of them; she wails, loud, unrestrained,  _painful_.

Leia doesn’t need to ask who did it. She knows.

She doesn’t forgive. She doesn’t forget. She’ll remember when she is old and grey.)

“Princess,” Vader acknowledges pleasantly, except he is her own personal definition of unpleasant; Lord Vader is more machine than he is man, she figures. A person couldn’t possibly commit the…  _atrocities_  he had. The murder, the mayhem, the blood shed – how could he live with himself?

(Years later she figures it out. He  _couldn’t_.)

For a while she had been under the impression that he mattered, that he was somebody – then she joined Senate and figured he was no more than Tarkin’s _bodyguard,_ of sorts. Dad spoke of him as the Emperor’s right hand, a merciless enforcer, keeping the galaxy in check with fear tactics. But the more she delved into it, the more apparent it became that… There were no tactics. No plans. No apparent responsibility placed on Darth Vader, other than being a symbol of the Emperor’s power.

It bemused her to no end.

They chatter; Tarkin boasts. She notices he is rather drunk. Vader remains there, beside them, towering over the lot of them rather hilariously. Senator Bezz Drexx, whom Leia recognizes from Dad’s stories (he had been a traitor during the Clone Wars), says to her: “You remind me of someone.”

Her eyebrow rises, “Do I?”

“You look like a lovely lady I once knew,” he nods. “What was it again –  _Oh_. Of course. Senator Amidala. Dead ringer, really,”

Leia gives a tight smile. “I’ve never heard of her.”

(But she has dreamed of her.)

“You look  _exactly_  like her,” the Senator slurs. “She died a while back, actually. Pity.”

His smile betrays him.

(She thinks she sees Vader’s fingers twitch.)

Something on Vader’s arm beeps. “Commader. I’ll be back shortly,” he says to Tarkin, who waves him away carelessly. Vader leaves their circle and the absence of his presence is somehow painfully apparent.

“ _My ship,_  the Death Star,” Tarkin drawls, “is the most dangerous ship to ever exist! It’s the size of a Corulagi moon.”

Leia and Mon gape and act amazed appropriately. Mon giggles, although Leia knows she is not drunk, “And what do you intend to do with it, Commander?”

Tarkin smirks.

“It’s not finished, not yet, but when it will be,” he lets out a low whistle. “There’s nothing in the galaxy that can stop it. Not even the Emperor himself.”

Drexx laughs: “Don’t let Lord Vader hear you speak like that.”

Tarkin barks out a laugh as well. “He’s no idea of things concerning the Death Star! Doesn’t know the first thing,”

“Yes?” Drexx asks, clearly surprised.

Tarkin nods. “He’s got little to no idea, as far as I know.”

He raises his glass to his thin lips. “But I  _did_  hide the construction plans in his castle,” he adds slyly, looking very pleased with himself, “He doesn’t know about that either!”

Drexx and Tarkin double over and laugh. Leia and Mon share a look; they join in.

4.      

Ash. Dust. It’s all that’s left of Alderaan.

But she has no time to mourn, no time to think – and no bodies to bury. Everyone she’s ever loved, everyone she’s ever known;  _gone_. Wiped off the map.

She’s on a strange ship –

(It’s patched and old and rusty, but still flying, much to her amazement. “Fastest ship in the galaxy,” Han proclaims.

She resists the urge to snort. They’re never getting out alive.)

– with a strange man and some strange boy that  _somehow_  feels… familiar. He feels right. She trusts him, she thinks.

But she doesn’t trust his pirate of a friend.

(She doesn’t have much of a choice either.)

Luke tells her he grew up on a farm. He tells her him and his Uncle – who is dead, much like his Aunt – bought Artoo and Threepio on Tatooine. He found her message and found Ben Kenobi – who died at the hands of Vader.

(Doesn’t everyone they love die that way?)

“So, we’re all alone now, huh?” Luke jokes, nudging her shoulder.

She manages a smile. “Just you and me and Chewie.”

(She didn’t  _mean_  to call Chewie a walking carpet earlier. She didn’t  _mean_  to sound so… Core Worlds.

It slipped. Her parents, cousins, friends, grandparents –  _everyone_  – died on her and she had a ship to escape. She was agitated. 

“I’m sorry for saying that,” she says to Chewie quietly. “I didn’t mean it.”

He gives her a sort-of grin and roars. She supposes she’s forgiven.)

“And Han,” Luke reminds her.

(Han. Han. How could she forget.

“You know you love me, sweetheart,” he grins down at her and she’s fuming and red in the face and – he’s so far up, she vaguely thinks. He should, perhaps, come closer. So she could hear him better. And see what color his eyes are up close. And maybe even–  _No_.

Bad thoughts, Leia. He’s a Selfish Pirate Smuggler Scoundrel and she happens to like nice men. She’s only ever liked nice men and Han’s got a bounty on his head and as soon as she hands over the money, he’ll be out of there with his Wookie and his  _damned_  ship that won’t seem to work and – to Sith hell with him, really.

Yet she can’t help that she thinks he’s… not bad looking for a pirate.

She’ll never say it out loud. To anyone.)

Leia groans. Luke grins. This is so easy; it’s like she’s known him her whole life.

“Speaking of Han – I’m gonna go check up on him. You can go get a bit of sleep,” he looks very serious for a moment. “You must be exhausted after… everything that happened.”

She is. She thanks Luke and hears Chewie curse at Han.

“What, you crazy fuzzball? She’s  _my_  ship. I’ll fix her.  _No_ , Chewie – We won’t – Oh, kriffin’ hell –“

He swears in three different languages.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

(She falls asleep on one of the Falcon’s bunk beds. The mattress is springy and old and she wonders when Han got this blasted ship, because it can’t possibly be from the last thirty years – but it’s got charm, she has to admit.

Something inside her –Luke said something about ‘ _the Force’_  earlier and she thinks for a second that could be it, because it sounds and fits just about right– tells her this is exactly where she’s supposed to be.

She dreams of Mom that night. She dreams of Dad and she dreams of Alderaan and  _Vader_  and when she wakes – “Where’s her royal Courtshipness, Kid?” “In the bunks, Captain.” – she’s shaking and crying and she burns for everything she’s lost, every life that screamed out to her and was silenced by fire and she swears to her mothers’ Gods, she’ll wear the title Rebel Scum with the same poise and pride she once wore her diadem with, she’ll fight until her arms give out and her heart stops beating in her chest –

She’ll bring the Empire to its knees.)

5.        

(Years pass and the nightmares get more frequent and there is a war to be fought and – she’s just gotten Han back, her Han, her scoundrel; all she wants to do is sleep.

The air smells like the woods behind her house on Alderaan.  _Had_. She lets her hair be down; she only does so in front of family. Chewie, Han and Luke were just that.

She follows Luke outside; she felt his distress from across the room.

“Luke? What’s wrong?”

“Leia,” Luke turns to her, “Do you remember your mother? Your real mother?”

Mom  _was_  my real mother, Leia thinks, but she can’t be angry at him. He doesn’t understand. She doesn’t blame him.

“Just a little bit,” she shrugs. “She died when I was very young.”

“What do you remember?”

Leia is slightly bemused. “Just images, really. Feelings,” she answers.

“Tell me,” he insists.

She looks down at her lap and sighs. “She was… very beautiful.”

She fiddles with her skirt. She remembers long hair and eyes just like hers: “Kind, but… Sad.”

She looks at Luke. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I have no memory of my mother,” he breathes. “I never knew her.”

She feels bad for him for a moment, because she can’t imagine growing up without a mother to braid your hair, tuck you in at night, read you goodnight stories and laugh with you – she demands, albeit in a soft voice she’s grown to use around him, “Luke. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

Luke says he feels Vader. Luke says he must face him. Luke says he’s his _father_  – Leia can’t imagine him, her best friend, her anchor, being related to that  _monster_. But Luke is adamant; he keeps saying, “I have to face him,” like maybe repeating it will make the thought less terrifying; he keeps saying, “I have to face him,” because he believes there is still good in his father, but Leia knows better.

She knows Vader better.

Luke says, “The Force is strong in my family. My father has it. I have it.”

“And my sister has it.”

He looks at her with his blue eyes, searching her face, reaching out to her and – no. it cannot be.

He nods and whispers, “Yes. It’s you, Leia.”

It makes sense, it really does, because Luke is so much to her than just a friend, there was always something else that connected them, something that brought them together in ways Leia never thought were possible. Her thoughts are racing; ‘so if he is his son, then I am his…  _Daughter_?’

She gives Luke a quiet, breathy, “I know.”

She’s Vader’s daughter. Vader, who murdered  _Mama and Papa and Aunt ‘Soka_ and countless others– she’s his daughter.

Luke leaves; she had no doubt he would.

She pushes Han away. He pushes right back and holds her in his arms and pats her shoulder awkwardly – but it’s okay. Because it’s Han.

When people are scared or sad or angry, Papa once said, you give them space; sometimes she’s damn glad no one’s ever taught Han proper manners.)

Everything is over. The war is over. The Empire has fallen and the Rebels prevailed and Luke is alive and Vader – well. Her  _father_ , Anakin, is dead. He had turned to the Light side in his last moments and saved Luke from the Emperor. It all seems very funny to her, how all seems to be forgiven and forgotten, like this one act erased twenty-three years of terror.  _“How quaint_ ,” she wants to spit in his face and make him pay for what he’s done, for the people he’s hurt, but she’s so tired. She’s tired of fighting and murder and mayhem and – maybe, if Han manages to sit still long enough, they can settle. Become a proper family. Yes, she’d like that.

“He said to tell you… I was right about him. That there was still good in him.”

“He said that?” her voice is a deadly whisper and her face loses all of its color and she’s so damn angry at him, because how dare he say something like that to her  _after everything he’s done_  –

She doesn’t forgive him. Not ever. She doesn’t forget either, but with time, it gets easier.

They’re twenty-four when Luke finds the holos of Padme and Luke laughs delightedly and looks at his mother’s face with bright, wet eyes –

“You’ve got her nose,” Leia tells him, smiling and Luke grins at her from ear to ear and he says, “I’ve got to show these to dad!”

She forgets they talk all the time.

(Luke finds holos of Anakin on an old Rebel base in the Outer Rim, where the Empire didn’t exist, but then neither did the Old Republic; matters of politics made no difference to those people. Politics were a language they did not speak, nor understand, but violence was; it had always been.

Anakin Skywalker. His name is part of a constant, uttered in one hushed breath; SkywalkerandKenobi KenobiandSkywalker,Generals in the Clone Wars, protectors of the people and defeaters of evil. He stands proud and tall next to Obi-Wan in the blurred recording, lightsaber clipped to his belt; they’re poster children – men. They’re both men, shaped and battered by the war.

There’s something in their eyes – hardness, like despite the badges and honors given to them by the Republic, they still see blood and taste metal, still smell burned bodies and hear screamingscreamingscreaming.

They said he died in Order of 66, that Anakin Skywalker died a pathetic death at the hands of a clone trooper. The Empire erased his existence completely – there were no records of his existence, no records of his heroics. The winds carried whispers to the lower levels of Coruscant, saying that Anakin Skywalker died protecting the younglings in the old Jedi Temple. They said his other half, Obi-Wan, died backing up his partner, his  _brother_ ; they said he went down kicking and screaming.

Thus a legend was born, a story told by Rebels who didn’t know better – The Hero With No Fear and his Wise Master dying to protect the people, dying in a fruitless attempt of protecting the Republic.

She wonders how many people spent their whole life hoping for a hero like Anakin had once been, wishing on countless stars for mercy and salvation.

She wonders how many people died at Vader’s hand with his old name woven into their prayer.)

“Does it bother you?” Han asks her quietly that night, when they’re lying in bed and his heart is against her cheek, “That they talk so much, I mean.”

Leia shrugs. “Luke’s never had a father.”

“Leia,” he rolls his eyes. “That’s not what’s bothering you. And you know it,”

She sighs. “I don’t know how he can forgive him so easily,” she admits softly, tracing circles into his chest. “He murdered everyone I ever loved.”

Han tenses. She wonders if he had too lost loved ones at the hands of the Empire; he never speaks of his family. She doesn’t push it – not tonight. They have plenty of time to heal and talk about things like that later.

“I think…” he says slowly and he’s searching for the right words to say and  _this can’t be any good_ , she thinks – “Your brother is a good man. And I’m proud of him. He’s  _my_  brother too, you know,” she kisses the tip of his nose and he smiles, “I love him half to death.”

“More than me, I’m sure,” she teases.

Han laughs. “Of _course_ , Princess. What I’m saying is that… everyone’s mourning differently. And if he’s finding comfort in  _Vader_  of all people – well. So be it. We can’t rob him of that comfort.”

“When did  _you_  get so wise?” Leia mockingly gasps and he pokes at her rib threateningly.

“Luke’s forgiving in a way that’s rare in this wretched galaxy,” he tells her.

“It won’t be wretched any longer,” Leia promises and wraps her arms around his neck. “We’ll make sure of that.”

He smiles. “Of course we will, sweetheart. Together.”

(She doesn’t know how to do this. Luke said, “Just call on him.”

 _Call on him._  Like it’s that easy.

She sits there, meditating, like Luke’s shown her.  _Be one with the Force_ , he says.  _He’ll come to you._

After a good thirty minutes, she loses it. “Why won’t you appear to me, goddamnit!”

He materializes from thin air, it seems; there’s a confused frown on his face. “You called?”

He’s tall, much taller than Luke is, and broad shouldered. There’s a scar running down the side of his face; starting just above his eyebrow and ending just above his cheekbone. The heat of the desert before a sandstorm flashes in his eyes, hair sun kissed and skin tan – Luke looks so much like him, she realizes, and something pulls at her heartstrings.

It’s been  _years_  since the war. She should be able to talk to him.

She takes a deep breath. “I did.”

He opens his mouth and closes it again. She supposes she’s confused as well.

“I… have been thinking,” she starts out and she’s pacing the room and he sits on one of her chairs, arms crossed over his chest, “I’m expecting twins and I know our mother had twins as well,” –she mentally slaps herself, Force almighty Leia, of course she had sodden  _twins_  – “And I just. Iwantedtoknowmoreabouther.”

“Pardon?”

She exhales through her nose. “I wanted to know more about… mom.”

His entire face lights up. “What’d you wanna know?”)

(She might not like him –or she might, she makes no promises – but she likes mom a lot, if she’s anything Anakin describes her to be like. They talk about her at first, mostly, and Leia finds herself agreeing with him and laughing at what he says and seeing him hurts less and less every time and Conversations About Mom turn into Conversations About Han and Luke and The Weather and Life in General.

When her second son is born, healthy and beautiful, she names him after her biological father. Not because she’s  _particularly_  fond of him or the name– again, she makes no promises – but because it’s time to let go. Start anew. Not forget, not just yet, but forgive.

When she tells Anakin, he tears up. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her into his chest and she – well, she doesn’t complain. She possibly even hugs him back.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nspx on tumblr and on ff.net. Leave a review, lovely!


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